Sweet Revenge
by Trixy BuenaSuerte
Summary: Reader Insert! Sequel to Guilty Pleasure. You had only wanted to help him right? So why was your life suddenly falling apart around you? Rated M mostly for Lang.


**Sweet Revenge**

You stare at the front door to your home while you sit on the stairs across from it, your elbows on your knees and chin in your hands. You're just waiting for the doors to burst open or be blow off their hinges and you wonder if He'll help you pay for the damages this time or make you pay out of your dwindling bank account again.

Hey, the doors don't just fix themselves, no matter what the movies try to make you believe, and thanks to a certain someone, you are now a regular at your local Home Depot. Sighing you close your eyes just as a small explosion goes off and you're so accustomed to this that you don't even flinch or open your eyes as footsteps make their way to you.

You don't move, don't tense, don't breathe when he places a hand softly on your shoulder or as the other pushes you (H/C) hair off your neck and reveals your newly acquired bruise because he knew. I mean of course he knew. (Pikachu knows everything) He's The Joker for fuck's sake.

You sigh again as you feel his hand gently wrap around your throat in a loose grip. Though you feel guilty as hell, you can't bring yourself to apologize or even give a half assed explanation. So instead you tilt your head to the side an expose more of your neck to him while he studies it closely, eyes trailing over each fresh bruise.

His gloved fingers twitch and you snap open your eyes to look up him as he towers over your seated form. There's a dark look on his face as he looks down at you with narrowed green eyes. You (E/C) eyes lock with his and you feel a shiver run down your back just as Harley bursts in through the door, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"You whore," She screeches, stomping towards you with her fist clenched at her sides. You stare at her, face blank, while she keeps throwing out more insults, stomping about and waving her arms. You've never liked her, hell you couldn't stand the girl, what with the way she liked to drape herself over your man when she thought you weren't looking.

"Shut up," You growl quietly and she turns to look at you with a shocked look on her face because you've never been anything but polite to her, something she clearly takes advantage of.

"Excuse me," She screams, placing a hand over her heart as her mouth hangs open and you keep your face blank even as you once again growl at her to be quiet. But she doesn't listen to you and instead she walks up to you and yells, "You're nothing but Mr. J's skank so you don't get to talk to me like that!"

Your fist's moving before you're even aware that you have stood and colliding with her cheek before you even notice you've thrown a punch. Her head snaps to the side as she crumples to the floor holding her now bruised and bleeding cheek and you stand over her, glaring at her.

"Get the fuck out off my house," You snarl and when she just sits there, staring stupidly at you, you feel yourself snap and you launch yourself at her. Your only intentions being to scratch her blue eyes out and maybe even breaking a few bones here and there but a strong arm warps around your waist, stopping you easily mid-leap.

"Out! Get the fuck out," You screech struggling against the arms holding you back. She scrambles to her feet and raises her hand, ready to slap you but a look from The Joker over your head has her scampering off, grumbling all the way.

You slump against him and he holds you up when your legs give up on you. You breathe in deeply, trying to calm yourself so you won't do something else you'll regret and the smell of gunpowder and gasoline, strangely, helps you relax. Though you can't help but wonder if you really do regret what you did.

The arm tightening around your waist reminds you that you should but in all honesty you don't regret it. You can't bring yourself _to_ regret it because you love him and it shakes you to the core to know that he might love you too.

"Why," he asks, voice serious, calm, and lacking its usual insane tone while he still holds you against his hard chest. You lower your gaze to your feet, your hands balling up at you sides while your (F/C) painted nails dig into the palms of your hands.

"I love him," You say, keeping your head down but your voice comes out clear and confident even as you feel his arm tighten to the point of pain around your waist. You know he's nodding even though you can't see him doing it.

"I figured as much," he says in that same serious voice and your heart clenches in your chest as he lets out a frustrated sigh while running his hands through his green hair. "So where does this leave us?"

You freeze at those words because you honestly don't know. Sure you love Bruce Wayne but you don't think you can live without The Joker after everything you two have been through…

To put it simply you're torn, because you need The Joker like you need air to breathe. You need him at night to hold you tight and scare all the monsters away. To tell you I love you in those weird quirky ways that he does all throughout your day.

But you can't leave Bruce because he needs you. He needs you so he won't go into that damn depressed state you found him in. It's also something else though. Something you can't tell The Joker because you're afraid you'll hurt him.

It's that fact that you can't be seen with him.

The fact that you can't have a normal life with him.

The man is psychotic for haven sakes; he has a list of diagnosed mental illness so long it'll make your head spin.

But with Bruce you can be normal, you can go out in public together, can go watch a movie together or have a picnic at the park and yet…there's only a small chance that he loves you back…

You were only supposed to help him, right?

You close your eyes when you feel his arms leave your waist. You don't move, don't tense, don't breath as you hear his footsteps head towards the door and fade away but you can feel your heart break inside your chest because _you_ need Him…

BATMAN

"Haven't seen you in a while."

You jump when you hear someone behind you and hope shines in your eyes. You almost drop the coffee in your hands as you jerk up a little too fast in your haste to see who as approached you. Only for that hope to die a painful death when you see it's not the person you're hoping for.

"Oh, Hey, Bruce," You say, trying to find it in yourself to smile while you nervously tuck a strand of (H/C) behind your ear and lower your eyes back to the papers you were reading. "What brings you to Starbucks," You say a little nervously while you take a sip of your coffee; all the while trying to pretend like your hands aren't shaking terribly.

You haven't seen Bruce since that day two weeks ago and secretly you had hoped to keep it that way for a little while longer or at least until you had the Lady balls to look for him yourself. But, no, instead you find yourself in public, face to face with the reason The Joker left you and you can't even blame him because it had all been your fault after all.

The moment He had walked out the door you realized how much of an idiot you had truly been. You loved The Joker, probably more than you should and without him your days had been bleak and boring. But you just couldn't bring yourself to go to him or pick up the phone to call to him because you wouldn't be able to take it if he turned you away, though you deserved it.

These past two weeks had been hell and not because Harley Quinn had been making your life a mess like you had thought she would after He left but because she hadn't. You had sort of been counting on it; if only to prove to yourself that The Joker still cared enough that Harley felt the need to make you pay for hurting Mr. J.

The nights had been the worst though, because you had a ridiculously huge phobia of the dark and He wasn't there to hold you anymore. So you had to deal with all the imaginary monsters by yourself; leaving you with days of little to no sleep.

"Just passing by," He says cheekily as he takes the seat across from you and you give him a doubtful look over you cup. You know that's not the reason he basically stalked you here because, honestly, who wouldn't notice Bruce Wayne in his expensive tux as he walked amongst a crowd of ordinary people? "Alright, alright, I needed to talk to you," He says with a chuckle and you sigh and put down your cup with still shaking hands.

"What can I help you with, Mr. Millionaire," You tease while patiently placing your arms on your lap and leaning back in your seat. Your thoughts run over all the possible things he would ask from you but of course nothing prepares you for what he does ask.

"I need you to be my date to my birthday bash tonight," He says and you freeze, wondering if it truly already is the 19 of February and wondering just where the hell Valentine's Day had gone. "(Your Name)" He calls and you're pulled from your musing as you lock eyes with him and you sit up straighter in your chair.

"I'd be delighted to, Mr. Wayne," You say politely with a small nod and stand maybe a little too quickly to gather your things. "Though perhaps it would have been best to tell me with time so I could have had an outfit ready," You scold lightly when you see slight apprehension on his features as he too notices your rushed movements. "I gotta go and get ready," You toss over your shoulder as you move towards the door, wanting to just get away for awhile.

"Pick you up at 8 then," He calls after you and you nod back at him before all but running to the door and your car. Happiness and sadness course through you all at once because as much as you really, truly want to go to his party for him, you know that The Joker will show up too just to crash it. Just because you hadn't seen heads or tails of him in the past two weeks doesn't mean he's been quiet. Bruce Wayne's been having a prank filled week, mind you; and you can't help but feel eager to see Him again.

BATMAN

When you finally arrive the party's in full swing and you suddenly feel a little under dressed in your strapless, floor length, (F/C) simple dress. You shuffle nervously in your seat as you wait for Bruce's chauffeur to open the door for you.

The moment the door opens you're blinded by flashing lights and have to shield your eyes with your (F/C) clutch while you grab the offered hand in front of you. The lights seem to grow in number as you step out of Bruce's flashy sliver car; whose make and model you have no hope in knowing, seeing as you've never seen one before.

The paparazzi continue to take pictures as you and Bruce pass by them and you ignore them. The flashing lights are starting to annoy you but you keep your head up high and bite your tongue so you don't say anything rude. You won't stand for it though when they start yelling questions at you. So you all but drag Bruce up the stairs to the mansion while he chuckles at your behavior. He knows you hate paparazzi.

As soon as you're cleared of the annoying paparazzi you're assaulted by the snobby, arrogant people who have come to wish Bruce a happy birthday. Blurs of faces and mean sneers are all you can remember of the people Bruce has introduced to you so far because you have refused to pay attention to others while the look down at you.

"Ah, Bruce, dear, there you are," you hear as a busty blonde moves towards you and throws her long pale arms around Bruce in an exaggerated move of friendship and have to hold in a laugh at Bruce's confused expression while he returns the hug stiffly.

"It's good to see you too," he says politely when he pulls back to take a good look at the blonde and you cover your mouth with your (F/C) gloved hands to hide your smirk when you realize that he really doesn't remember the extravagant blonde.

"And who is this," the blonde asks while she turns her cold calculating gaze to you. This why you hated events like these, to them you were as poor as the rest of Gotham just because your name didn't hold as much weight as theirs. They would always look down their pretty long noses at you when you were around so you preferred not to attend most social gatherings.

"This is (your full name)," Bruce says while he leads you forward towards the snobby blonde and you nod your head slightly in greeting. The blonde's eyes narrow and you feel slightly scared as a smirk crosses her features and she places a hand on Bruce's arm.

"Oh, so this is the (your last name) heir," she says before turning her gaze back up to Bruce, a worried expression on her face. "Really now, Bruce, if you couldn't find a better date you could have called me," she says as if you're not there and you tense before turning and storming away.

Stupid, Snobby, Arrogant, Sons of Bitches you screech in your head as you make your way to the bar and grab a cup of whiskey before downing it in one go and reaching for another.

This is why you hate being of money, because these people saw nothing more than that. Money is and forever shall be their whole world. It's what makes them happy and, sadly, they can't see past that.

Bruce does though.

"Keep drinking in such a manner and you won't be on your feet much longer, Miss (your name)."

You smile as the calm soothing voice washes over you and turn towards the owner with the biggest smile you've had in a long while.

"Alfred," you whisper and throw your arms around him. "How have you been," you ask while you pull back and you smile again when you see the happy look on his face. He motions for you to follow after him and you do so happily as he leads you to the kitchen and you lean against one of the cleared counter tops.

"What seems to be the matter Miss (Your name)," he asks while he leans on the counter top across from you. And you huff out a breath while you wave your hand dismissively at him. Sometimes you thought Alfred was too kind for his own good. You loved the elderly butler more than your own estate butler back home.

"Just the usual, Alfred, snobby jerks looking down on the much less rich," you say with a smile. A worried expression covers his features before he brushes it off and moves to hand you a cup of soda, taking your whiskey from you. "Alfred," you whine but he just gives you a hard look before pouring the rest of your drink down the sink.

"There, much better now, a lady, such as yourself, should not be drinking," he says sternly and you give him an exasperated look before pointing towards the still ongoing party full of drinking women. He huffs as he says, "I did say Lady, did I not? Pay them no mind, Miss (your name), they know not but the pleasures of money."

You chuckle and take a sip of your cola before pushing away from the counter. "Then maybe we should set about enlightening their minds to the world beyond money," you whisper quietly and look around as if you were afraid someone might hear of your plans. He laughs and you join him before smiling kindly. "Thank you, Alfred, I'll see you later," you say before heading towards the door, you really should be getting back to Bruce now. Whether everyone liked it or not you are his date and should be by his side.

"Wait, Miss (your name)," he calls hesitantly after you and you turn to him with wide curious eyes.

"Yes, Alfred," you say as you watch him wring his hands nervously in front of him. You've never seen Alfred nervous and it scares you slightly so you set your soda down and make your way to him. "What is it," you ask.

"I just…Thank you, for helping him," he says softly and you give him a reassuring smile while you pull the elderly butler into another hug.

"You're welcome," you whisper just as softly before turning and, picking up your drink, exiting the kitchen so you can join the party.

Your thoughts are elsewhere as you walk through the room while you stare down at your drink, twirling it around in your hands. Does Alfred know exactly what you did? Does he know that you slept with Bruce simply because he said 'I love you'? Does he know that you can't really be with Bruce because your heart longs for another?

You had been stupid and irrational. You saw that now, now that your body ached to be held by Him. Now that your arms craved to wrap around His neck and your hands begged to bury themselves in green hair while your legs screamed to be able to cling to His hips.

You don't care anymore about him being bat shit crazy as long as he loves you. You no longer care if you can't have a normal life with children and a white picket fence or if you can't be publicly seen with him. Nobody's opinion matters to you anymore. They rest of the world could burn in hell for all you cared.

Sure you loved Bruce once upon a time when you had been a young girl but he was always out of your league until that night two weeks ago and you had stupidly let it get to you. Making you question everything and causing you to ruin the best thing that had ever happened to you. Sure your heart had leapt for join at the possibility that he may love you back but that's just what it was, a possibility.

You had promised to help Bruce and you had done that. He is once again on his feet saving the world so what's holding you back from picking up the phone and dialing that number?

Rejection.

Plain and simple.

You're afraid that he won't want you back and he has good reason not to, you had cheated on him after all. Harley Quinn would probably be more faithful to her precious Mr. J than you were or at least she wouldn't sleep with his arch nemesis. With a sigh you lean against the nearby railing and realized that you've ascended the stairs to the second floor. After a few moments you, finally, lift your gaze from your cup to roam over the party goers.

The sight that meets your eyes puzzles you because, instead of the merry party making you expected, you see nothing but huddled bodies cowering on the floor. As you gaze below your ears, at last, pick up on the loud and fearful cries of those on the floor and the blast of weapons that go off occasionally.

You carefully let your eyes sweep over the henchmen whilst you try to make out whom they belong to. When your (E/C) eyes take in their dirty clown masks you relax slightly before freezing up once again.

Where is Bruce?

The thought screams at you and you frantically look around for the birthday boy only to realize that everyone is watching _you _in disbelief over the fact that you're still standing and unharmed. You ignore their eyes and continue to search for Bruce and find him restrained by two of The Joker's men. After a moment you recognize them as Alberto and George, The Joker's strongest men, because of their unique yellow haired masks with blue painted lips and red rimmed eyes.

They had a nasty streak.

With attitudes to match.

You'd seen it first hand when you had first been brought to The Joker's Headquarters and a few of the newer members had overstepped their boundaries. You'll never get the image of George beating the new recruits to a bloody pulp out of your mind; or the image of Alberto slamming one of them into the wall and breaking both his arms with what seemed to be no effort at all.

Bruce would be lucky to get out of their grasps with his bones still intact.

You continue to watch as they drag the struggling man to where you just realize Harley Quinn's standing on one of Bruce's expensive table. You take in her elegant pink ad purple dress while she twirls her wooden mallet in her hands gracefully before dropping it with a heavy thud at her feet and you wonder how no one noticed her.

Everyone's eyes flick to her instantly and the cries stop abruptly when Bruce is force to his knees in front of her. You wince when George, the smaller built one of the two, sends a solid and powerful kick to Bruce's back that propels him to his hands and knees in front of her.

"Well what do we have here," Her southern drawl reaches your ears and you tense. "A pretty boy? Oh, I wonder if Mr. J will let me have some fun with you first this time," she says as she drops down from the table and circles around Bruce's still kneeling form. "He always gets to go first," she continues with a whine in her voice and you have to hold yourself back from rushing down there and slapping the bitch silly.

If she kept going like that, everyone would know Batman's identity by the end of the night

She continues to circle him for a bit longer while letting her hands brush against his back occasionally. Finally she stops and lifts her hands towards the ceiling and begins to spin and it's, oddly enough, graceful as her dress flares out around her before she comes to a stop while facing you and she slowly lowers her hands and curtsies.

You can see her menacing smile from where you stand and you watch as she once again lifts her hands only this time she points her fingers at you as if she'd holding a gun. "Ladies and Gentlemen," she begins while still pointing her fake gun at you just as the crowd let out a collective gasps.

"_We are tonight's entertainment._"

The words are whispered into your ear at the same time as Harley says them proudly below while she 'shoots' her gun at you and the lights go out.


End file.
